


Kiss With A Fist

by followthecreeper (insibbegerest)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/followthecreeper
Summary: What actually happened during the filming of the Haifisch video aka the things the band doesn't want you to know.(Hint: It's gay.)





	Kiss With A Fist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nara_ism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara_ism/gifts).



> I'm finally back with another fanfic!! This one was supposed to be a Christmas gift for my dearest roommate @Nara_ism, but now it's more of an... Easter gift? Still, better late than never, right? :))  
> This story is different from my previous Snow White-ish fairytale, it's not set in an alternative universe and is more on the cracky and funny side. And while it took me forever to finish it, I always enjoy writing about these two dumbasses <3

"Why do we all have to wear ties, by the way? You guys know I prefer bow ties, they suit me better."

"This is a funeral, Paul. You can't just wear whatever you want," Schneider said with a hint of exasperation. It was a tradition that every time they were shooting a video, Paul would go on hour long rants about anything and everything his annoying little head could think of. Schneider fondly remembered the day Rammstein were filming Engel – they had decided Paul would sit behind the drums the whole time and boy, was that a great idea! All their guitarist could do was frown at them from a distance, keep his mouth shut and shift restlessly on his stool.

Today his bandmates had no such luck though.

"Ah, so you're an expert on what people should wear at fictional funerals, aren't you Herr Schneider?" Paul gave him a cheeky grin. "You realize you're not an actual tailor, no matter what your surname says?"

"Yeah. I also realize you're an actual pain in the ass."

"You should really work on your comebacks, this one sucked."

Before Schneider could come up with an answer more eloquent than 'fuck you', Richard said, "Or maybe you should work on not being a pain in the ass, Paul. I've heard you complain about your tie at least three times already."

Paul pouted. "I just want this video to be perfect, okay? And if I have to say some things more than once, well, that's because nobody here is listening to me! I've been trying to explain to Joern that the lighting is just shit but all he does is ignore me."

"The lighting seems fine to me," said Till with a shrug.

"Everything seems always fine to you... But I am the kind of person who notices every detail! Can't help it."

"You're the kind of person who needs to complain about every detail," Richard said, producing a pack of cigarettes seemingly out of nowhere and sticking one in his mouth.

"Only if it's wrong," Paul corrected him. He chose not to mention the fact that Richard tended to complain just as much as he did, if not more. And Paul's complaints were constructive and objective, while Richard whined just for the sake of whining. Their band was democratic, everyone had the right to express their opinion and if one of them said no to an idea, then that was it. However, the musicians had learnt to take Richard’s suggestions with a grain of salt.

"We don't even have to be here, you know, me and the band and the crew. You can do everything yourself if you want. Play all the roles, stand behind the cameras, do the editing... I'm sure that's the only way that would satisfy you." Richard calmly blew out a stream of smoke while staring at some point in the distance.

"You bet that would satisfy me," Paul agreed, frowning slightly. He didn't like this thing Richard did when he was talking to someone and didn't even bother to look them in the eye; he probably thought gaping god knows where made him look mysterious. Dumbass.

Richard smirked and finally his gaze met Paul's. "Anyway, I know the real reason you don't want to wear those things," he pointed at Paul's tie. "It's because you have no idea how to tie them properly."

"What? Of course I do."

"You do not."

"Yes I do and you're a filthy liar."

With one swift movement, Richard removed his tie and handed it over to his friend. Paul gulped.

"Would you put it back on my neck, please? I suddenly forgot how to do it," said Richard, still smirking.

"I'm not your servant, it's not my job to dress you up."

"You're not my servant," Richard agreed, "but you're my friend. And friends are supposed to help each other in tough times."

"When was the last time _you_ helped in tough times, Richard?"

"Oh, I help you all the time!"

"Give me one example."

"Alright, but first," Richard tilted his head back and tapped on his neck with his finger, "make me look like a proper gentleman."

Paul snorted. "Gentleman? You look more like some fancy gigolo whose favourite sugar daddy is a Russian mob boss."

Richard smirked. "Ah yes, the fanciest. I am afraid you couldn’t afford me, dear."

"As if I’d ever spend my precious money to spend a night with someone who smells like an ashtray. Man, just kissing you can probably cause lung cancer."

Richard, probably fully aware of the fact that Paul had no intention and no idea how to return the tie to its previous state, took the black piece of fabric back, his touch deliberately lingering and his fingers slowly brushing against Paul‘s. Then, at an even slower rate, he began tying his tie all while keeping his eyes fixed on Paul’s. "The lung cancer would be totally worth it, though. I am an excellent kisser."

Many times, Paul wondered if Richard knew and was just fucking with him or, well, if he was just being Richard and flirting shamelessly with everything that moved. Paul had never noticed him acting like this around the other guys, though; yes, he had heard Till and Richard exchange some shitty flirty jokes, but it was always obvious that was what they were – jokes. But what Richard kept doing to him, that was different. On some occasions, Paul almost expected him to cross the line and do _something,_ like tell Paul he’s always been attracted to him or even kiss him, but nothing had ever happened and each time only left Paul more confused than before. What was this game his fellow guitarist had been playing with him?

"Anybody could say that. Prove it," was what Paul said before his brain could catch up to his mouth.

Richard seemed as surprised by Paul’s words as Paul himself, possibly even more. Before Richard could get to reply, Paul quickly put on a smile way too wide to be genuine and added, "Ha, you should see your face! Got you."

Richard let out a short laugh and looked away. "Yeah, you got me. For a second I actually thought you were all set and ready to start making out with me."

 _I was, I’ve wanted you for years you idiot, but I’ve always been too much of a coward to admit it. And by the look of things, today won’t be any different._ "Nah, I couldn’t let that happen because then you’d find out I am actually much better at kissing than you are and that might hurt your ego."

"No, it would be your ego that would get hurt, Landers."

"Impossible."

"Is it?" Richard's lips curled up in a provocative smile as he took a step closer. "Prove it," he said in a low voice, both his tone and his sudden proximity making Paul shiver.

 _Do it, now! It is the perfect opportunity. If Richard doesn't mean it, you'll simply play it off as a joke later. He was the one who challenged you, therefore he'd have no right to be pissed off._ It all sounded so logical in Paul's mind... and he definitely was a man capable of thinking logically, but god, thinking and acting were two completely different things. Instead of logically kissing the shit out of Richard, he stood motionless, his gaze fully focused on the other man's face. What the hell was the matter with him? He had never been a shy person and it rarely was a problem for him to make the first step, so why was he suddenly acting like a blushing virgin?

"You two stop gossiping, let's get back to work," Till called, gesturing for them to join Joern and the rest of the band.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

 

* * *

 

Paul wasn't even sure how the argument started. They were discussing some minor details about the video, he and Richard disagreed and suddenly the pissed off black-haired drama queen wanted to murder him. Typical.

"I don't understand how someone so small can have an ego so big," the drama queen hissed.

Paul smiled sweetly. He liked to do that when Richard was angry at him because it was a guaranteed way to make his face turn an even darker shade of red. "It's called talent."

"Stop making that face at me, you know I hate it!"

"What face? I'm just smiling."

"Exactly! I'm trying to lead a conversation about important topics here, but you're just taking the piss out off me!" Richard threw his hands in the air in a way any theatre actor would be proud of. "You can't take anything seriously!"

"I take a lot of things seriously! Coffee, for example. Food. And guitar playing, unlike you."

"What! I practice much more than you do, you asshat!" Richard snapped at him. Joking about his hair or music skills was always sure to get him riled up.

"Mmhm. Doesn't seem to be doing you much good," Paul said with a mischievous grin.

"Paul, leave him alone," Till entered the discussion like the weary father of two misbehaving children.

For a short moment, Paul entertained the idea of doing as Till had asked and backing away, but seeing Richard in his current condition, looking like steam would start shooting from his ears at any moment… that was too hilarious for Paul to miss.

"He started!" Honestly Paul had no idea who actually started, but it didn’t matter. It had to be Richard, it had always been him. And if Till was going to talk to him like he was a child, then he would embrace that role.

Richard, ignoring Till completely, cried out, "Fuck off Landers! I don't have time for your bullshit, we have a video to shoot here! And if you really think you're the only one around here who knows how to do music, you can fucking leave this band and make a solo project, what's stopping you?! I'm tired of your crap, I work hard and I've sacrificed a lot for this band, but you never appreciate anything I do. I'm going home and I'm not coming back until you apologise, you fuckhead. I mean what are you, five? Can’t you just admit you’re a fucking idiot?" Once this conversation was be over, Richard was going to need to smoke like ten cigarettes to calm himself down, of that Paul was certain.

Paul, still smiling, took a step towards Richard. "I will gladly do that, but only once you admit that you are a fucking idiot as well."

Till sighed. "Is this really necessary…?"

The two, of course, ignored him completely. It was quite comical how simple it was for them to disregard the presence of a man who was built like a fashion guru’s wardrobe.

"You admit it first!"

"No, you admit it first!"

"Can you even believe these guys are in their forties?" whispered Ollie, appearing next to Till as if out of thin air.

Till just shook his head tiredly. His giant paw landed on Richard’s shoulder. "Boys… As Richard said, we have a video to shoot, now is not the best time to start fighting. After the filming is finished, you two can happily go back to being at each other's throats, but I need you to be reasonable today, alright? For the band's sake." 

Paul sighed. Till was probably right, he had been unnecessarily mean to Richard... although this was nothing compared to many of the words Richard had spat at him in all the years they had played together. Several times, Paul had had to punch whatever object he could reach to stop himself from clocking Richard in his stupidly handsome face instead. They would continue to yell at each other for some time until one of them had had enough and stormed off. In the end Paul would usually end up trying to calm himself down while composing new music and drinking coffee so strong it woud kill any other mortal. Well, either that, or he would lock himself in his room and jerk off furiously, his head full of various scenarios including Richard. Richard on his knees in front of him,showing that his mouth was good for other things than talking shit. Richard loudly moaning from under him like a cheap whore. Richard being slammed to the wall by him and surprised by a rough kiss that would leave their lips bleeding. Paul's hands around Richard's neck, his grip just tight enough to make Richard gasp for breath without actually causing him any harm. 

That was actually how this whole damn Richard situation had started. At first, the thought of kissing Richard had only come to him in situations when it felt like it would be the easiest way to shut him up. Sometimes it was also followed by fantasies of fucking Richard hard to relieve the friction that had been growing between them.

Eventually, as they got older, they relationship became less based on animosity and more on friendship. Their disputes had faded from fiery arguments to something more reminiscent of the bickering of an old married couple. Despite all the bad things that had happened between them and all the grudges they had held towards each other in the past, first and foremost they had always been friends and colleagues and with time even family. This whole band was Paul's family and in spite of their numerous differences he most certainly loved these five idiots. 

And yeah, somewhere along the way Paul had been dumb enough to let this weird mix of lust, irritation and fondness that he had associated with Richard evolve into something much more intense that he now had no goddamn clue how to deal with.

"Guys, guys!" shouted Joern, who had been observing the entire exchange from afar and for whatever reason seemed to be rather pleased. "Now is the perfect moment to shoot one of the scenes I have prepared for the video! You are going to love it."

"What are we going to do in that scene? Can we beat the shit out of those two?" With a hopeful expression, Till pointed in the direction of the two guitarists.

"You all can beat the shit out of each other," Joern laughed. "No need to thank me! I mean Richard is going to throw the first punch, but then you all can have your fun together. Release the adrenaline etcetera."

"If that’s what you call fun…" Flake muttered under his breath.

Schneider frowned. "Damn it Flake, now that Richard and Paul are finally quiet for a moment, you have to pipe up and start complaining, too. Is there anyone else in this band who actually wants to get this video done before the end of the year or am I the only one?"

"Of course I want to get it done… I am just worried about you all, because I know you have no chance to best me in a fist fight," Flake deadpanned.

Everyone started to laugh, except for Paul and Richard, who were too busy having an angry stare contest. Noticing this, Schneider turned to Till and whispered: "But honestly, I’ll be surprised if those two morons don’t end up with blood running from their noses. And I mean real blood, not fake."

Till shrugged. "Whatever. Getting a bit physical might at least help them blow of some steam and they could finally become bearable again."

"Yeah, maybe you’re right. Either way… this is going to be interesting," said Schneider, a small mischievous grin finding its way to his lips.

 

* * *

 

"Come on, punch him! Go at him!"

Richard could hear Joern shouting his commands, but it felt as if his head was submerged under water and the words were coming from somewhere above the surface. Yes, there was a man loudly instructing him on how to do his job well, but somehow Richard’s brain was deciding to filter it all out, as if nothing happening out there around him mattered now.

He was finding himself in a rather peculiar situation, so to say. As almost every time they had to work together for more than a couple of hours straight, he was fucking mad at Paul. This time, though, he was actually allowed – and not only allowed, encouraged – to vent that anger instead of attempting to suppress it. They were a big pile of limbs rolling around in the dirt, grabbing each other's hair and pieces of clothes and throwing punches that were fake but both probably sort of wanted them to be real. There had been many times before when Richard just wanted to solve their issues by slapping the fuck out of Paul, but he always held back. Now he was wondering why.

This wasn’t even _real,_ yet it felt so satisfying. Paul was squirming under him, trying to get the upper hand but failing. Perhaps it was weird to feel so smug about winning this pretended brawl, but he did. The adrenaline had kicked in and Richard’s anger transformed from this burning bitterness into raw energy and something almost like fun. And okay, to be entirely honest, his dick seemed to be sort of enjoying it too, but nobody had to know that. Some of the animosity was still there, but all this tossing around and kind-of-wrestling was making him forget he was a musician at work and instead bringing back memories of being a little kid. This all was just a play, after all.

As Richard got too lost in his thoughts, Paul took advantage of his momentary distraction and fought his way on top of him.

"Oh you fucking asshole!" Richard laughed. Who knew a bit of competitiveness and motion could change his mood so quickly?

"Guys, no talking," Joern reminded them.

"No talking, Reesh," Paul repeated, smirking. "You fucked it up."

"Shut up, you dick."

"You are the Dick here, nein? Dick Z. Kruspe." Fucking asshat Landers was enjoying this way too much, it seemed.

"Idiot. You’re so going to regret this." Why was he smiling? He wanted to look intimidating, but for whatever reason it wasn’t coming easily to him anymore.

It didn’t take too long before Richard was in control of the situation again – although Paul hadn’t been exactly trying to stop him. While Richard wanted to gain dominance in their imaginary fight, Paul had been focusing on doing the stupidest movements and gestures, because the man was apparently unable to take things seriously… well, at least the things he was actually supposed to take seriously. When it came to bullshit, Mr. Landers was very well able to spend hours arguing about it; an attribute that Richard shared with him, according to many people. It was funny how the two of them were polar opposites in many things, yet the other band members could often be heard accusing them of _"Oh aren’t you two dipshits just birds of a feather. The same fucking insufferable behaviour. Kettle, meet pot."_

Probably a guitarist thing.

Richard looked down at Paul, intending to give him another smug grin and then keep going, but something stopped him. He took in the sight of Paul lying there in the grass right under him, disheveled and breathless, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar… and shit was he beautiful. Whatever had been left of his anger was now completely overshadowed by a sea of emotions that were powerful and confusing and hard to name, but whatever the hell they were, they put ideas and images in Richard’s mind that were very, very hard to resist.

And so he made no attempt to resist.

Not stopping to think about the consequences, he grabbed Paul by the collar, pulled him up and crashed their lips together. He could hear a "What the fuck" or two coming from around them, but at the moment he could not care less if they were being watched.

Paul apparently was on the same note, judging from his enthusiastic response. He let out a small satisfied noise, wrapped his arms around Richard and kissed back with all the passion and force and those soft fucking feelings he had been repressing for years.

The kiss wasn't too long, and objectively it probably wasn't very good either, but Richard felt more alive than he had in forever. It was clashing teeth, tongues, uncomfortable and awkward angles and a lot of what-the-hell-am-i-doing flavoured confusion. But Richard loved every single second of it.

"Did you put some drugs in their coffee, Joern?" Flake shouted, evidently unable to find a more suitable explanation to what had just transpired.

"No, of course not!"

"You know, now that I'm thinking about it... I'm not really surprised," Till said apathetically. "Explains a lot of things."

"What things?" Flake made a face. "You think they were being such little shits to each other because they secretly were into each other? What is this, kindergarten?"

Till shook his head slightly. "I'm sure it's a lot more complicated than that. But at the same time... yeah, this band is most fucking definitely a kindergarten. I need a break."

"Yeah," agreed Schneider. "I know we wanted to wrap it up quickly today, but I feel like one more coffee break will only do us good."

"Alright guys, let's go," said Till, risking a glance at Paul and Richard. His two bandmates were not thankfully kissing anymore, however, they still were tangled up in each other on the ground, staring at one another and breathing heavily. Somehow this look they were exchaning felt even more intimate than what they had all witnessed a moment ago, and so Till quickly turned his head away.

"Please tell me they're not going to start fucking right here," Schneider muttered.

Till started to laugh. "I mean, it might be good for them. Maybe they wouldn't argue as much afterwards."

"Good for them, but bad for me. I'm not going to continue recording in a place where my two stupid bandmates had sex."

Till snorted. "That's not going to happen, don't worry. They both seem to be too shocked about the fact that they just made out to be able to do anything else but give each other long weird looks for the next hour or so.”

Schneider shot one last look at the two guitarists. Richard had finally rose up to his feet, reaching out to help Paul stand up. Paul accepted and grabbed Richard’s hand. As they were standing close to each other, neither of them seemed to be willing to let go first. Paul looked at Richard, then at their joined hands, then at Richard’s face again and erupted into soft giggles. Richard blinked, awkward and puzzled, his cheeks still coloured slightly pink after their little escapade. A second passed and his lips curled into a smile so disgustingly sweet and adoring that Schneider had to avert his gaze.

"Let’s get the fuck away from here,” Schneider suggested. The three men around him all nodded and followed him to the nearest cafeteria.

And as for the two remaning band members, well... they were too distracted to notice anything and anyone but each other for a good while.


End file.
